Neverland
by writerfantic616
Summary: Lacey Jennings was bred a dreamer. Growing up on endless stories,her favorite had been of the boy who never grew up and the adventures he had with the lost boys on Neverland. But she knows fact from fiction. When she finds herself in a land she mearly wished was real falling for a "boy"she only dreamed existed,will the carefree and adventurous lifestyle be too much to handle?
1. Authors Note

Hey Darlings!

(See what I did there)

So this is one of my first stories! Whoop whoop! But yeah, I'm sorry if my writing skills aren't as developed as many other writers that I'm sure you have encountered. Anyways I just wanted to clear stuff up before I start:

1\. I guess you can think of this as a cross between the Neverland in the 2003 movie and the miniseries from Syfy. I don't know, the one in Syfy was too dark and eerie for my taste. So think the setting of 2003 with concepts from Syfy. If you haven't watched either, then I will try to clear things up and make it easier to understand. But don't worry I'm planning to be way more original and using them kind of like a foundation.

2\. I will be releasing the prologue and maybe a chapter to see how everything goes and it will be for a while. My goal is to have the whole story complete before I continue posting. I've been writing this over my school breaks because that's sadly the only time I can work on it. But good for you guys right?! Most likely no delays on updates! Yay!

3\. I dont think I have a update schedule for when I do complete it but when the story starts getting a good run then I'll let you guys know.

And I think that's it so enjoy the story!

Thx a lot for reading guys! Bye!

-Writerfantic616


	2. Prologue

_There is a special beauty in darkness_.

Just like the starry night sky currently in my view. Too many twinkle to catch each and every one. They are like flickering candles drifting in a dark sea. I can't help but feel as though they whisper across the space; to me or someone else or to each other I didn't know. The moon floats in between, a large white-grey stone in that dark sea. It appeared closer than usual, but no matter. If anything, the sight was the most beautiful thing I'd seen.

I could have- would have- stayed there, basking underneath it. But what seemed like the chill of night began to get to me. My toes were the first to feel the painful numbness of frostbite. It crept along my body, excruciatingly slow. I tried to focus on the canvas of stars above, block out the hurt. Their whispers grew louder, frantic, but still unclear. I could tell that I teetered on the edge of life and death.

 _'To die would be an awfully big adventure.'_

I remember how my mother would tell me about all of the different Peter Pan adventures when I was little. They were always my favorite. And so there I was, ready to welcome death. Ready to be whisked away by the boy who never grows up, just as the stories say. Then again the stories weren't completely true.

Again the stars erupt into a fit, burning brighter and twinkling twice as often. This time I heard them as clear as day. Like tiny bells.

 _"Hurry! Hurry!"_

 _"She's almost gone!"_

A cloud of cool air escapes my lips as I chuckle. What a thing, to hear stars speak.

My eyes felt heavy as they drooped. 'No. Stay wake. The stars...,' I tell myself, trying to regain some consciousness.

"Lacey...Lacey...Lacey..." The voice sounded distant, but appeared to get closer each time. I furrowed my brow in confusion. 'Who was Lacey? What was my name?' I let it go. It hurt too much to think. There was only room for pain.

I notice my breath get shallow and more labored. My chest was heavy, as if the largest weight held it down. I tried to move but couldn't muster any strength. My mouth tasted metallic. Hair was plastered across my forehead. I was almost positive I looked as crappy as I felt.

"Lace! Lace!" The voice was much closer now. A few seconds later (I couldn't really tell) I felt someone drag me into their lap. At first I was alarmed. But then I heard the voice again, this time right in my ear. "Lacey?" it whispers. These arms felt familiar. "No, no, no. God Lace, what..."

I open my eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of a boy, almost a man. His raven black hair reflected off the moonlight, turning it a slight shade brighter. His face is ridden with a mixture of sweat, dirt, and dried blood. Scratches and cut marks scatter his face and clothes. His eyes, his oh so beautiful pale blue eyes, shake with unshed tears. It was the eyes that brought back all of the memories.

"Peter," I sighed, although it came out more as a strained croak. "Im-Im sorry." With the last amount of strength I had I tried to reach his face. To touch him one last time. No matter how much I wanted to stay, tried to stay, I don't think I ever would have been able to. I was so tired and had naively hoped that he would be there when I woke up. I closed my eyes and drifted off into an overwhelming darkness.

Before I could lose full consciousness, however, I felt him cry into the crook of my neck and say "I'm sorry."

* * *

I woke with a start.


	3. Chapter 1

"It's a hell hole. Get me out now."

An overstatement sure, but put a girl in the middle of the desert with no WiFi living off of pizza and Ramen noodles and you have yourself a noncompliant b*tch of a daughter.

"Listen I know it's tough right now but you gotta wait this out just a bit alright? I'm almost done wrapping things up down here and I promise it will be worth it. Give me until tomorrow and then you can kiss that hell hole of yours goodbye."

I groaned into the plush pillows that lay upon my neatly made bed per the service of room keeping. They still held the scent of lavender from when Dad and I had moved into the hotel room two days before.

The curtains were shut to block out the rays of the high-risen sun and the windows were cracked open in hopes of fresh breezy air, even though none was possible. The muted tv displayed cable news of some unclaimed lottery ticket in the area and beside it lay an open pack tootsie pops and wrappers. The small kitchenette in the far corner of the room was littered with greasy paper plates and red cups, too many to contain in the tiny trashcan provided in the room. They complimented the air tinged with the slight smell of beer.

I hadn't expected Malia and Diana to bring booze and more friends with them but I went along with it. They knew that even though I lived on the wild side a bit, I would never get tangled into their crap. Smoking and partying and getting buzzed and hungover every other night was not for me. But that didn't stop them from enjoying themselves around me. I hadn't seen my twin best friends in over 6 months when they moved down to Palm Springs and wanted to catch up. Malia and Diana were living the high life.

And here I was, stuck in 110 degree weather, sweating away my summer. The pool had been closed off the whole day due to a messed up pipeline that filtered it or something like that. And so now it was a major inconvenience to me and the countless other vacationers in the bloody establishment.

With a sigh I hurriedly mumbled a few words of agreeance under my breath before ending the conversation with my father. Placing my phone on the beside table, I made my way first to the tv to pick up another cherry red toostie pop and then to the corner of the room to clean up the mess left behind from an hour earlier. I tied my thick hair up into a high bun for my sweaty neck to breathe and tried my best to gather everything together. Once I had a hold on things I opened the front door, made sure the door stopper was in place, and proceeded to carry all the garbage down to the larger trash bin down the end of the hall. When I returned to the room, I left the door open after noticing it was less stuffy that way. Still, I could practically taste the alcohol in the air.

"Yeah. No one's gonna like that." I decided it best that no one suspected any underage drinking had occurred during our little "hangout" and mask it before any curious people start making complaints. I did my best to fix myself up in the sink in mirror mounted in the wall before grabbing my wallet, phone, and keycard to leave for the mini convinience store on the main lobby.

I made an effort to pull down my crop top in hopes of coming off as decent but eventually gave up on the prospect halfway there. When I reached the mart, I found the toiletry section and was fortunate to find a pleasant enough air freshener way cheaper than expected for a luxury hotel. I did have to use a bit of the emergency money Dad had left me just in case though.

I had been examining the canister when I collided with a stroller coming from the oposite direction.

"Oh gosh. I'm so sorry. That was my fault. I should have been paying attention." The lady had an apologitic look on her face, although she seemed out if it. As if she had been daydreaming how much better this vacation could have been had she left the two kids that sat in the stroller before me at home with a relative. Seeing them literally bouncing out of their seats dying to be set free made me feel like I couldn't blame her.

"No no its fine. I really should've looked where I was going. It not on you trust me," I replied, trying to relieve the obviously distraught woman. We were about to exchange goodbyes before I noticed what lay beside my feet.

I'd always loved this edition of the book. I myself had suggested that the boarder of the book and the engraving that ran along the binging be gold to match it's creme background. The front side lays face up, showing the spiraling letters that adorned the cover. Its thick pile of golden edged pages looked a bit beaten, but they were frail and was to be expected if thrown around. Even without its jacket cover, I knew every copy of the book that had made the shelves.

I bent down to pick it up and ran my fingers along the author's name stamped into the front cover. Howard Jennings. Originally he was going to come up with an alias but realized there was no reason that he couldn't use his real one. I huffed at the odds of finding my father's book of all children's storybooks to have stumbled upon.

The stories featured in the book

sometimes irked me. Dad had based his stories on the ones my mother would create for me as a child. The one of the kind princess who was stolen away as a girl and forced to serve a horrid troll and his people, whom she came to understand, before being rescued by the kingdom's most valiant knight. Or the boy who played a magical harpsicord to enchant entire villages.

Although nothing beat the originals. I wore my Snow White costume for Halloween unill I was 11 and still planned on recycling it for a more sophisticated look. I once kissed a frog in middle school on a dare and secretly hoped it'd turn into a boyfriend. Even to the day, 2 weeks from my 17th birthday, I still wished to never grow up, just like the boy who never did.

But none of that really matters now. He's shifted to a more young adult audience. I prefer it more anyways. It kinda got a bit old eventually.

"Here you go." I placed it in the hands of the woman, who stowed it in a compartment in the back of the stroller. We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, this time paying more attention to our surroundings.

By the time I made it back to my floor the clock on the wall across the elevator read 2:15. I pulled out the keycard from my back pocket and jiggled it around in the slot a few times before I managed to unclock the door.

The pungent scent cascaded out the door so I made quick work of spraying down each inch of the room before opening the window further.

With the room in order, I poured myself a glass of water from the tap, scoured my suitcase for my laptop, and made myself cozy on the pullout sofa positioned in front of the television.

For the rest of the evening I sat there rewatching episodes of The Office on Netflix before feeling the need to make myself dinner. It was the last pack of Easy Mac, nothing special. I made a mental note to ask my dad to pick some up on the way or do it myself in the morning.

I had just started the microwave when I heard the door slam shut and the light in the hall flick off. It had been my only source of lighting ever since sundown a half our before. I made quick time pulling out my phone from the back pocket of my jean shorts and switching the flashlight on. Unfortunately there were no weapons around as the hotel, for obvious reasons, couldn't provide any. I tried to recall some basic moves I had learned through a YouTube video my middle school made us watch on selfdefense. Although I knew it wouldn't do much good.

"Who the hell is there?" I demanded, my voice sturdy and unwavering. I kept the light pointed to the hallway as I menuvered around the table, keeping my body angled towards the door. Right before the beam hit the last corner where the intruder could have possibly hidden, the hall light flicked back on.

"Boo!" A man jumped out of the shadow into full view. A grin etched his face when he realized he had gotten the reaction he had wanted from me. My hand had instantaneously reached for the base of my throat while the other clutched the phone tightly, poised to throw.

"JESUS DAD! WAS THAT NECESSARY!?" I questioned once I calmed down and regained my composture. My father on the other hand had seemed to put all joking aside after he had his laugh, trading his toothy grin for a more stern expression.

"Well if it taught you to never leave the door wide open for anyone to just waltz in then yeah Lace, it was necessary," he replied, crossing his arms. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I always felt akward when he spoke in an authoritive voice. He almost never used it, only on certain occasions. We had always laughed everything off at the end of the day. That's how our relationship was. We were always my mother's carefree goofballs. She had been the one to keep us in check. But now he had to take on the role of both the prankster and the cop.

I shrugged my shoulders and srunched my face in an apologic gesture. "Sorry?"

"Sorry?!" He rose his eyebrows. "I'm serious Lace!"

"Okay I'm sorry alright! Its too freaking hot in here as you can tell and I was going to close it anyways. Plus nothing would have happened. There are only like 5 people in this whole hall."

"Open a freaking window then."

"They are. All of them. What else was I supposed to do?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever Lace. Just try think about what your doing next time." Dad walked over to the couch and tossed down his jacket. "Anyways, listen. There's been a change of plans. Turns out we are gonna have to make a stop somewhere else before we head on back to San Diego."

"Where to?" I ask.

"London."


	4. Chapter 2

I don't think I had ever been more exited about the weather than I had been that day. I welcomed the cool shower that had started to come down upon the city just before the plane landed. I watched the web of patterns out side my taxi window as we made out way through the heart of the city. We had left Palm Springs around 10 that night which meant by the time we reached London, it was almost mid-afternoon.

I wasn't expecting to come to London. I thought we would be back home from visiting family in San Fran by now. But it was a pleasant turn of events. I mean I could have pleaded to stay back home but I was feeling a little bitter about having to miss last year's tour of Europe my graduating class had orchestrated.

As we drove down the narrow roads, I admired charm of area. Brick and stone buildings, cobblestone walkways, lamposts, and even red telephone booths. I had never really seen any of that growing up in California. Back home it was open and everything was pactically built on mountains and in canyons. Out here, there was actually green and it really felt like the atmosphere of a city closed in around you. We passed the London Eye, something I used to think was the largest ferris wheel on the planet. Mom promised to take me one day.

I subconsciously played with the moonstone necklace she gave me the last birthday I spent with her. It was one of my birthstones as a June baby. The jewel was no bigger than my thumbnail. It was set in a silver polished shell that spiraled along its surface, leaving only its front visable. I only wore it on certain occasions, like today, when I wanted to feel like she was closeby.

Three years had passed since she died. Somehow it seems longer. There are times when I still forget the reason why we stopped going here and there and doing certain things. And then I remeber "Oh yeah its because Mom's gone." I kind of get mad at Dad sometimes for it. Just because she wasn't there anymore didn't mean we had to try to avoid memories of her. I haven't gone to see Aunt Jen in over 2 years. She used to work with Mom at the Inn when we lived in Nevada before her death. Now we only get a 'Happy Holidays' card every Christmas.

The only family I could really turn to was my sister Evie. She graduated MIT just last year and had moved back home to Cali. Even though she lives up in LA, its worth the drive every other weekend to go spend some time with a less authoritive guardian. Despite my relationship with my dad, there were things that could only be shared with her. After Mom died, I relied on her more than ever. We weren't really close before she had left for the east coast but I guess now she kinda figured she had to fill that space in my life that was left vacant. We both know she can't replace mom but she's been my support ever since, right along side Dad.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of a grand hotel, a bit too high end for my liking. Directly to the right of the entrance door, on the white pristine wall, read The Kensington Hotel. I smiled at the familiarity of the name and exited my side, wrapping around to the trunk to retrieve my bags. Dad had done the same and payed the driver in kind before we made our way through the glass revolving doors. We walked along the main lobby, which had no business at the time, and gawked at the interior design.

The gold and white tones of the geometric pattern in the marble floor complimented the dark wood paneling that covered the walls and railings around us. The staircase started at both sides in the back of the room, curving to meet a balcony that extended farther back to what might have been a recreational room or dining space. There were whites and reds that littered the floor, from lounge chairs to dining areas to centerpieces that lay atop large granite countertops. In the center of it all, a massive vintage chandelier hangs from the ceiling. It's 3 teirs loom above, threatening to come down upon any passerby.

"How the heck did we afford this?" I asked, leaning over to whisper in my dad's ear.

He feigned a hurt expression. "What makes you think I can't?"

"This was courtesy of the dealers huh?"

"Even if it was it's none of your business," he responded with a smirk as we approached the check-in counter.

The receptionist eyed us the entire way over, a rehearsed smile etched on his face. He wore a white dress shirt beneath a pressed black tuxedo vest and was currently trying his best to adjust his bow tie. Pinned on the left breast pocket was a name tag.

After being given our room key cards, we took the elevator up to the 7th floor and went to our room. It was a generous upgrade from the one we left the night before. We deposited our bags and headed back down to grab some lunch.

"So, how long are we staying," I inclined as I wolfed down my meal. Everything on the menu at the hotel was French and lavish, not to mention expensive. So we settled with looking for a nearby McDonalds.

"I don't know exactly. Usually these things take a few days but we might have to be here a little longer. Maybe a week."

I was fine with that. He would be gone working and I would be free to do whatever the hell I wanted. Maybe some sight seeing. Stalking cute boys. Then again I'm a hermit and enjoy the company of television or a bed.

"Cool with me," I said stealing one of his french fries.

We spent the rest of the day killing time. We walked for miles it felt, from North Kensington down back to Big Ben. Street vendors hollered every now and then in each area. We bought the some of the sweetest macaroons with tea, something I get to cross off my list of things to do while in London. Catching a ride in a horse carriage, we eventually reached Hyde Park, a.k.a. Kensington Gardens. I watched it pass in silent awe.

Everything Kensington reminded me of the Peter Pan stories my mother told me as a child. The escapades and tales she would describe were awe inspiring. She had a special knack for leaving a little spark of adventure in the eyes of all the neighborhood kids. We used to invite all the kids my age over once in a while for a huge sleepover of sorts and the main attraction would be a new story. To five year old kids, it was just another exciting day in the life.

I wonder if I had ever grown out of the naïvety of childhood. I hadn't really noticed how often she had been away at doctor visits or how she would tire more easily with the passing months. I hadn't even pieced it together when she began to roll around with an oxygen tank. "My lungs have always been a little weak, poor things," she would insist every time I asked. Even though it worried me a bit, I had trusted her enough to let me know if it was serious. And Evie would tell me anything.

So thats why when the last month came around, I felt a bit betrayed. Being pulled out in the middle of class and rushed to the hospital to see your dying mother sucks. They waited until then to let me know the whole situation. I realized that Evie had already known when she didn't react. I hated her the most after that. Of all things to hide she chooses something like this.

When Mom finally died, it hit harder than I anticipated. The doctors had told us when they thought she was going to go a few days in advance to say our goodbyes, which I did without shedding a single tear. Little did I know it would come out tenfold every night after that. I guess thats when I let Evie back in because I couldn't take being alone. Dad was in his own little world of denial at the time and she was the only one I could turn to.

Thats why he stopped writing children's books. He and Mom were a team. Even though he had his name slapped on every book, she was the genius behind the work. He loved writing too much to stop, but he also couldn't stick with something that would make every word he scribbled on a page sting. I guess he found another crowd he was good working with. He wasn't too popular yet, but he definitely had a bigger following than when he was writing for 5 year olds. The fact that he was going to this meeting, which was apparently meant to discuss selling his latest work internationally, shows that he was going somewhere with his career.

We headed back a few hours after nightfall. As much as we enjoyed seeing the city in its illuminated glory, Dad and I weren't up to staying out in streets we weren't completely familiar with. I couldn't resist the jet lag anymore anyways.

When we arrived at the the hotel room, I trudged through my nightly routine. Showering off the stress of traveling felt heavenly and calming under the heat of the water. After changing into a pair of sweatpants and one of Evie's old MIT sweatshirts, I made myself another cup of tea (this time not for the sake of acting English). I cozied up in the warmth of one of the deluxe beds, drifting away to the sounds of the rain pattering against the window and the voice of the Tenth Doctor rambling through the television.

* * *

Images of my mother slipped from my mind as I woke to the mid-morning light that poured in from the open curtains. After the usual groan and 5 minute stretch in bed I realized I was alone, my father's bed empty and undone. Rubbing my eyes of sleep, I went through the hotel room calling out to him only to be met with a note sitting on the kitchen counter.

Early meeting. Didn't want to wake you. Ordered breakfast. Call me if you're going out.

Sure enough a platter of food lay atop a cart not too far away. Tossing the note aside, I helped myself to a serving before noticing the time of day. 1:30. Feeling reenergized, I decided I was actually in the mood to socialize with the world. Readying myself for the day, I called Dad as promised and set off for the city. He had given me more than enough money before we came here, meaning I could go anywhere I wanted.

I stuck to main streets and crowded places. Window shopping occupied most of my time. I took the time to notice the little trinkets displayed in old shops that stood beside newer ones. Meanwhile I tried more vendors, each one offering a taste of different cultures. Crepes, Kimchi sandwiches, and my favorite- churros. They weren't as good as the ones in TJ, but they tasted just good enough to make me miss home a little.

I was helping myself to a second stick when something in the window that I had been inspecting caught my attention. Even though it was the smallest piece displayed and less intricate than its companions, I stopped and admired it.

Sitting there beside other clocks was a pocket watch. Its unscathed and polished silver shell showed no signs of anyone actually having used it. Its chain was long and thin but looked strong enough to support its cargo even when strained. There were no engravings, no brands. Just an ordinary, simplistic watch.

But its rim was embedded with a familiar stone. They were very small, easy for one to overlook if they hadn't seen one everyday of their lives like I had. The moonstones shined-or more accurately glowed- as they caught the rays of light, much like how my necklace did. Its twin.

Swallowing my churro I entered the shop, eager for a better look. The bell hanging from the door rang as it swung open and I stepped across the threshold.

Because it was such a small room, the items for sale looked like a hoarders collection of junk rather than and actual shop. Making my way through the clutter, I reached the back counter where an old man sat doing a crossword from the weekend paper.

"Excuse me," I say to get his attention, since he hadn't been alerted by my entrance. He jumps a bit, startled at my presence.

"Oh! Sorry dear, I didn't see you there," he greets with a laugh. He tucks away the newspaper with a genuine smile. "What can I for you Miss?"

I return his smile and inquired about the watch in the display window. He was surprised at my interest. He tried to persuade me that it was one of the lesser beaus of his collection, saying its craftwork was amateur and sloppy. In fact he had wanted to get rid of it for years, which is why he offered it to me at a remarkable discount. After debating it for a while and weighing how much money I would be willing to spend on it, I took the deal and left the shop a happy customer. I don't know why I ended up buying it except for the fact that it reminded me of Mom. Maybe it would make a great souvenir.

I walked down the street, watch and necklace in hand. I had taken it off to get a better view of them side by side. I was oddly satisfied at the sight. Their silver shells and stones made them almost identical but each had its own variances that made them unique.

I hadn't noticed that this side of town had thinned out. Less pedestrians and cars rolled through the streets. The sun had begun going down as well and I knew that my Dad would call me anytime now.

I turned around to start my trip back to the hotel but I was struck from behind. I grasped the back of my head with a curse as I swiveled around. There was no one in sight. Creeped out just a bit, I quickened my pace this time paying more attention to my surroundings. I barely made it to the end of the street before I was pelted again.

"Alright, who the hell is there!" There was a small giggle from the alley before a little boy ran out of the shadows and straight to me. My anger dissipated and was replaced with annoyance. "Look kid, you shouldn't be out here alone. Run along home." I said beginning to turn back around.

"Terranchrome."

"What?" I ask after he takes off down the street. Deciding it was stupid to even worry about it, I continued on my way.

Before I'm able to take another step, I'm sucked into a blinding white light while being driven into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 3

I weaved in and out of consciousness, coming to slowly. Groaning at my soreness, I tried my best to sit up. I was groggy and there was a dulling ache on the back of my head. I tried to think back to what caused it and remembered what had happened. Panic consumed me as I crawled to my feet. That's when I noticed the ground swaying beneath me. It only added to my fit of hysteria as I tried to calm my unsteady heart. My head spun and I reached my hands out to steady myself against the nearest post but I was met with stiff air. My legs were still week, sending me thudding back to the floor. I stayed there catching my breath, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

The ground continued to rock back and forth as I waited for my mind to clear. It was only after I heard what seemed like the rolling and crashing of waves in the distance that I realized my head wasn't the problem. Adding the smell of seasalt to the concoction, there was no denying I wasn't on the street corner of London.

I was on a ship.

In the middle of nowhere.

Going God knows where.

With God knows who.

" _What the hell_ ," I panicked. The room was dark, save for light that streamed through a grate in the ceiling a little ways towards the other side of the room. Shaking, I got up to my feet with support from what seemed like small crates stacked upon one another. I tried to make my way towards it, working around the obstacles of crates and barrels around me.

My heart began to grow unsteady again. Had someone had taken me here? What was I supposed to do? Call the cops? No, there wouldn't be any reception. I stopped in my tracks at the sound of creaking and thudding coming from the deck above. Should I yell for help? Scream? No. The only ones on board were probably the ones who stunned and took me anyways. I had to figure out what the hell was happening before I do anything reckless.

I barely managed to make it halfway to the grate before I ran into a tipped over barrel. Even though I managed to catch my balance on another pillar of crates, I couldn't stop them from tumbling over. I watched frozen in place as the wooden boxes crashed and broke on the floor, spilling out stores of foreign fruits. The sound ricocheted in the room, so loud that I held my breath.

There was a slight pause on deck, some shuffling around, and then the bustling resumed. I stayed quiet for another 10 to 15 seconds before I let my breath go and continued to cross the room.

Within 5 steps, light flooded the room. My head snapped around behind me to where a door had opened at the top of a set of steep steps. From the angle I stood at I could only see pair of boots beginning its descent down. Just in time, I darted behind the corner out of sight. _Shit_. Now I had to deal with them. At this point my chest was pounding.

Maybe this was my chance. I could sneak past him up and out without him noticing. Judging by how far away shore was, I could either jump ship and swim or find somewhere else to hide until we docked.

Peeking over the barrel, I watched the figure creep around the room, looking for a disturbance. I waited until he stopped and observed the mess of food on the floor, his back to me, before inching along the side of the room. The entire time I prayed that the creaking wood wouldnt give me away. My focus remained on the hulking man in the middle of the room that was muttering curses under this breath rather than where I was stepping. If I had I would have spotted the odd fruit that I had kicked into a nearby crate only a foot away.

The impact wasn't loud; it was just that the room was quiet enough for it to be heard, despite the sounds of the ocean. The man turned in my direction right after I had ducked down back into the shadows. His eyes shifted back and forth, scanning for a threat. It allowed me to get a good look at him.

He was average height, around 5'10, with long gold locks of hair that fell to his shoulders. His face was sharp around the edges, and a small scar ran from the base of his left ear to the edge of his jawline. His green eyes turned darker it seemed the longer he stared. He was dressed in old clothes, his white flowing shirt and trousers taintend slightly with dirt and grime.

What caught my eye was the cutlass strapped to his belt. _Not good_. The stakes were much higher now.

I kept low and hidden, looking for a weapon to defend myself with in case things got dirty. I located a broomstick that lay in the crevice where the floor met the wall. _Better than nothing_. I waited patiently until he brushed it off and called out for some help cleaning up the mess.

When his back was turned once more, I slid out from behind the space and sneaked once more towards the exit. I debated weather or not to lock him down here and decided it best not to alert anyone of my escape.

Except that's not how it turned out.

Before I could react to the creak of the floorboard beneath my feet, there was an explosion of wood right next to my face at the same time as a gunshot. With squeal I dropped back to the ground, stick in hand. _Crap_.

"Come on now little runt. Get out here or I'll shoot you dead the next time I see your filthy face." His tone was playful and teasing, as if he dreamt of the latter happening.

I crawled silently to another pillar of crates, standing up to peer around the corner. He walked around the room, eventually disappearing out of my viewpoint. All I had left to go on was the thud of his heavy boots as he stalked out his prey. As he reached the back of the room, I slowly made my way to the door. The moment the footsteps stopped, the real fear kicked in. I halted and listened carefully, peering behind me. The grip on my stick tightened in anxiety. My ragged breath became heavier no matter what I did to calm it. The silence dragged on for a brief second longer before he continued again, this time his steps took a slower rhytm.

By the time he reached the opposite side of the room, I had found myself at the last group of barriers I could possibly have used for protection. With no cover I would have to make a B-line for the exit. This was my last shot.

I peeked my head around the side of the storage just in time to see him disappear behind a shelf of crates and barrels where I had been.

Unfortunately I hadn't payed attention to the door that had served as my escape route, which was why I was a bit surprised when my throat felt the coolness of a razor sharp edge.

"Hello mate."

My mind immediately went into survival mode. Without turning around, I shot my stick up and pushed away the sword from my neck, pricking it in the process. I hadn't felt the pain because of the adrenaline rush that overcame me once again. I didn't really know what I was doing. All I knew was I had to keep this guy away from me. So I swung like a madman.

My attacker had initially been shocked at my reaction but managed to regather his wits and countered my own random attacks. The little duel was short and ended when his blade chopped at my stick and sent the top half splintering to the ground.

Out of ideas, I made a last ditch effort and chucked the rest of the stick at his head-which made its mark. While he held his head in pain, I took the slight chance and made for the stairs.

Another gunshot sounded and not a second later, there was a piercing sting in my right ear. The pain was strong enough to the point where all I could do was clutch my head in pain, even with the heightened state I was in. When I drew my hand back, it came away with a small smear of red. Thankfully I could still feel my ear in its entirety meaning it was only grazed, but the pain was barely tolerable. With another groan, I made to step towards the door once more.

"Don't move or this time I wont miss." Although slightly muffled, Blondie's voice was stone cold and threatening. Our little game was over. A lump had grown in my throat and my body was crippled by fear. _I'm dead. Oh god. They're going to kill me_. "Turn around." My mind told me to resist him but my body unconsciously obeyed, knowing full well how much worse a bullet to the head would be compared to my current injury.

When I met his eyes they held me to them, green and calculating. I stared right back at them with less confidence than I had hoped to. To him I most likely looked like a deer caught in headlights, scared and ready to jump at any second. Then my focus slid in the direction of the pistol he held aimed towards me. My sight locked on to it. Never in my life had I seen a gun in person. Up until a minute ago I had never even heard a gunshot except through the beat up screen of our decade old tv. Now I was literally staring one down. Not one of the scenarios that ran through my head ended well. There's no way for me to outrun a bullet. I stand there shaking, my thoughts scrambled. I don't even notice the second man collect himself and march my way until his thick hands clamp around throat and nearly lift me clean off the ground. Only then do I snap out of my trance and return to survival mode. Screaming, I tear at his hand and kick out- not uselessly because it does take him an effort to contain my erratic behavior, but to no avail nonetheless. He scoffs at me. His expression has changed from outrage to bewilderment.

"Well, well. Where did you come from lassie?" His grip loosens but only slightly.

"Let go of me!" I manage to demand with venom. I can only pull at his hand now while boring into his black eyes. Instead my scrambled mind starts to regather itself. I can't fight my way out so I'm just going to have to talk them out of this. _No way in hell am I dying_.

"Release her Avery," Blondie says calmly, holstering his weapon. Avery complies but moves behind me to block the entrance. I gasp for air, relieved by the sensation of full lungs. Rubbing the soreness from my throat, I raise my eyes to meet his.

"Look, I don't know who the hell you are," I start quietly, "but you don't want to do this." What can I say that will get them to let me off? What do they want? "Umm, okay here," I pull out my wallet from my back pocket-a habit Dad had gotten me into-and throw it on the floor in front of him. "Take it. Let's forget all of this even happened. I swear I wont tell anyone just please," I beg, my resolve cracking at the end. "Please let me go." As much as I don't want to show fear, I cant help the tears that threaten to fall. _Who am I kidding? They're going to kill me after they do god knows what to me. They're probably a bunch of sex traffickers and I'm the newest item on the market._

Blondie bends down to observe the wallet with curiosity. He runs his fingers over the worn black leather and shows interest at the 20 dollar bills he pulls out out the folds. They were what was left over from my babysitting money I had earned through the month. He unceremoniously tosses them back to the ground and rises with a smile that in no way easies me.

"You're a cunning little thing aren't you?" There's the familiar thud of his boots as he approaches me. I instinctively I back up until I realize that isn't the best option considering the one behind me may be just as dangerous. Blondie stops a foot away from me where I have to crane my head to meet his gaze. "What are you doing aboard this ship?"

"What do you mean? _You_ brought me here. Remember? And I think it would make everyone happy if you take me back now," I try.

"Quiet!" he snaps. I jump a little at the remark but quickly recover, keeping in mind to be careful not to anger him any further. He reaches a dirty hand to my hair, examining the thick brown locks that fall in waves down my shoulders. His eyes scan my body, making me want to crawl inside myself hide from the discomfort. "Certainly a girl. But how?" he asks to no one in particular. He ponders for a second, evident by look on his face. But it soon washes over and he drops it. "No matter. She's no doubt one of the children. Take her."

Just a slight moment more and I would have been able to process his words completely and avoid being grabbed from behind by Avery. His calloused hands tugged my arms behind my back as he dragged me kicking and screaming once more up to the deck.


	6. Chapter 4

The only good thing that comes out of this is that I'm finally able to taste fresh air, although it is tinged with sea salt. The sun has already almost completely disappeared, leaving behind wrinkles of pink, red and orange in its wake. The sea expands over the horizon and begins to hint at the storm of waves that night will bring.

Panic wells inside me at the sight of open water. _No land._

It dissolves once we reach the other side of the deck where I'm able to spot the beach of an island not too far away. We may not be close to home, but at least there's the hope that if I escape I might be able to find someone on the island who can help me.

"Move along pretty." Avery pushes me along from behind with a little too much enjoyment. I send dirty looks his way but that is as much as I am able to do. Blondie had him bind my hands in front of me with rope and threatened to gag me if I hadn't stopped screaming.

As I followed behind Blondie's lead, I observed how empty the deck was save for a few other men dressed in similar garb as my captors.

 _Good. The less men, the easier it will be to slip away._

He led us to a pair of doors worn from years of weather. It was the only part of the ship however that remained untouched from the damages of what seemed like constant target practice. The details of the door were exquisitely done, from the door frame to the polished gold of the knobs. Whatever or whoever remained behind those doors were of high importance. This much I could tell. Even the two men before me, who appeared in my opinion to be barbarians, were compelled to humble themselves in its presence. Of course, it wasn't the door but its occupant, and if they were fearful, then what was I? _Hopeless? Dead?_

"Don't do anything stupid," Blondie warned, but I feel as if he meant it to all of us. And with that he swung open the doors and I was shoved once again into an unknown and mysterious place.

This room was better lit than the one before. Golden candelabras hung on every corner of the room, giving the scarlet red of the walls an eerier appearance in the flickering shadow of flames. A grand piano sat near the entrance, its keys yellowing from age. To the right, rows of books lined the walls of the room, their bindings telling of their wear. Across the way sat a large mantle built of a beautiful dark chestnut wood carved to perfection and rimmed once again with gold. Before the fireplace stood a dinning table to match that ran the length of half the room. Atop it lay a feast fit for a king, even t.

But none of this drew my attention. It was the desk at the end of the room and the man that sat in it.

He would have been considered a handsome man. His full head of hair fell over his shoulders in the same fashion as mine, unruly and unkept. His pale skin matched his cold blue eyes as they squinted in irritation at the sudden disturbance. Even his curling mustache gave a little twitch. But his demeanor changed once he laid eyes upon me.

"What is the meaning of this Crane?" he demanded. He sat back in his black velvet chair, showing enough interest to break from his previous activity of analyzing the sting of maps scattered across the desk.

"Sorry Captain, but we found a little pest below deck. Must be part of the littler." He gave a toothy grin. "This ones different." Crane dragged me in front of him so that I stood in front of the desk.

The Captain's face remained stoic as he observed me. He looked me up and down for a few seconds before he lifted from his position and walked around the desk slowly.

His wardrobe was much cleaner and told of his superiority aboard the ship. Silver buttons adorned the length of his brown tailcoat. Lapels folded neatly back and sleeves cuffed. His trousers were spotless and tucked into polished black boots. This man probably never lifted a finger in his life.

As he turned the corner, I noticed he was quick to tuck his right hand behind his back. He came to a stop in front of me, his eyes still taking me in. He raises his other hand and grips my chin, lifting it so I'm forced to meet his stare. I pray that mine doesn't betray my fear.

"I don't remember there being a girl," Crane says. I jerk my head out of his hand, to scared to slap it away. The Captains lips curl sideways into a small smirk.

"Neither do I, so where did you come from?" he replied with curiosity. He lingers a bit longer before he makes his way over to the dinning table and pours himself red wine into a silver goblet. "The boy gets craftier by the day with his new tricks."

My inability to comprehend this situation makes me irritated.

" _What the hell are you all going on about?!"_ I turn around so I'm facing the both of them directly. "I promise I'm not who you think I am. Okay? You have the wrong person!Let me go!"

The Captain simply takes a swig of his wine and sets it back down. My pleas have no affect on him. He gazes at me before he slips his attention to Crane.

"Spy?"

"Could be."

He ponders for a while. "Well she doesn't look like a savage."

My rage starts to grow. Nothing is making sense. They don't even know what they're doing. Theres no reasoning out of this.

Instead of listening to the rest of their conversation I search around the room for something I can use to help me get out of here. Avery stands next to me only a foot away. I catch the glint of his sword out of the corner of my eyes. _There._ If I'm fast enough I can surprise him and get my hands on it. But how am i going to fend of all three of them when I do? _Ill cross that bridge when I get to it._

I lunge for the sword. The element of surprise gives me an advantage and Im able to wrestle him out of it. The disadvantage came at the fact the my hands were very limited at the moment and i didn't anticipate its weight. I swung at Avery, stopping his advance. I swung again, raising it above my head. I had never killed a person before but desperate times call for desperate measures. If I didn't kill him, he would kill me. I let out a scream as i went to bring the blade down.

The sound of metal clashing was deafening to my injured ear and made me flinch. The sword vibrated in my hand before clanging to the ground behind me. Unarmed and vulnerable, I made to reach for it once again but was halted by the cool of metal at my throat. My eyes closed in defeat.

"Maybe she is a savage after all," the Captain laughs from above me. "Get up," he orders.

I slowly rise with my hands open in surrender as his blade brings me to my full height. My eyes never left his once. "Got a fight in you. Just like the rest on them," he says with distain. "Lock her in the bilge for now. She may be of use to us later."

This time I don't fight whoever grabs me. Instead I focus on the Captain and shoot daggers with my stare. I hated this man the most out of all of the people present in the room. His cockiness, his charming looks-everything about him wreaked of power. A power that had no regard for others. A man turned to sin and evil.

Mustering up as much as i could, I spit on his shoes. Unfortunately I was dragged away before I could see how his face would contort in disgust. A string of curses filled the room. "Savage!" was the last remark I heard before the doors closed and I was brought to the darkness below deck once again.

No light meant that there was no way of telling how long i had spent in the belly of the ship tied to a post. Judging by the hunger that began to gnaw at me, it could have been days. My throat was raw from the yelling i had done while down here and thought the evening. I was fatigued from all the energy i had spent and was somewhat grateful for the support of the beam. The air was musky and thick as I breathed it in.

I had drifted off to sleep at some point because I awoke at the chaos thudding above me. There were many people aboard ship, more than I had originally thought. Their shouts were distant but clear enough to decipher. Commands to arm, commands to capture, commands to fire.

I weakly shouted more pleas, even though it couldn't possible be heard over the commotion. But when light flooded back in the room, I couldn't help the flitting feeling of hope that arose within me. I had never sounded more desperate than I did now. _Finally._

"Please! Please you have to help me! They took me and I don't know where I am! You have to-"

As soon as I heard his thudding boots I immediately stopped. Then his scarred faced came into view and my heart stopped. _He doesn't look happy at all._ Crane pulls out a dagger from behind as he rushes toward me. I cower away.

 _This is it. He's come to kill me before anyone finds me. Probably going to dump my body in the sea and I float away, lost and forgotten._

"Come on!" He cuts me free of the post. I nearly crumple to the floor, my legs weak from misuse. I give out a yell as he pulls me back up by the hair, leading me stumbling up to deck.

The sun blinded me as it hung high in the sky. That meant that I had spent a least a whole night down there. Crane gave my head another tug, forcing me to see the scene that played

The mayhem was frightening. Swords clashed and clanged everywhere. Bullets were fired. Men scurried around finding weapons and engaging in battle. Few others kept to the shadows, not keen to fighting. The men were not as well built as the ones she had the pleasure of encountering already, but they showed some level of skill in combat.

The peculiar part in all of this were their opponents. At first glance, one would think that the ship had been over taken by an army of soldiers. But these individuals were too young. Some even younger than me. But their ability to hold their own was astounding. Each blocked every attack that came their way without difficulty. As if they had done this many times before and were simply running through another round of Battle Royale. They smiled and cheered as they faced the danger of being run through then and there. Their eyes gleamed with life and vitality that was absent from the men they quarreled.

No one made any signs of noticing us as we made our way through the havoc. With his grip firm in the roots of my hair, Crane guides me to the upper deck where the Captain stands. He observes the events unfolding before us with another stoic look, but his eyes betray his intoxication. He breaks into a small smile when he sees me.

"Finally." Crane stops us beside him and pulls me against chest with the dagger raised to my neck. My head begins to pound from the pressure on my hair. The Captain lets out a whistle and the battle slowly comes to a standstill. Swords point threatening to pierce. "Pan!" he calls out. "Show yourself Pan!"

For a moment nothing happens as the deck remains stock still, waiting for the call to finish their attacks. All that could be heard was the roll of the waves and possibly my unsteady heart pounding away in my chest.

Then a figure strolls through the crowd from the other side of the deck.

"Hello, old friend," the Captain greets.

"Hello old man."


End file.
